


clueless

by BansheeLydia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Scott McCall, College, Established Relationship, Established Scott/Derek - Freeform, Future Fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Gore, Pining, Polyamory, Roommates, Scerek - Freeform, Smut, Threesome, eventual mchaleinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 00:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6098683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was Scott...was Scott actually propositioning him?  Into a threesome?  Fucking Christ on a cracker, he was nostalgic for the days when Scott freaking blushed at the word nipple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	clueless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ericaismeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ericaismeg/gifts).



> PLEASE NOTE: there is a brief description of violence, blood, gore and murder on a horror movie they're watching.

“ _Oh god – oh GOD_ -.”

Stiles huffed, tossing his book aside and dragging his hands over his face. It was barely ten at night and his roommates were going at it _again_. 

Stiles got it, he did; they were young, they’d only been dating for six months, and they were still in the stage of fucking like rabbits, but it was incredibly awkward hearing his best friend thanking deities every night. He now knew what Scott sounded like when he was getting fucked and that was really, _really_ crossing over best friend boundaries. 

(He’d be uncomfortable knowing what Scotty sounded like when he came, too, except they’d both been fourteen once and curious, and there’d been one or two occasions when they’d been in the same room and porn had been on and hands had been down boxers.)

Scott’s bed started banging against the wall their bedrooms shared and Stiles sighed, grabbing earphones. Scott and Derek were both _loud_ , so Stiles had made a special playlist, mostly of rock music, to drown it out. He plugged his earphones into his phone, wedged the buds into his ears, and turned the volume right up, closing his eyes.

A particularly loud groan slipped through the music and Stiles’ dick twitched in his pants, chubbing up a little.

Yeah. _Awkward_ didn’t even begin to cover it.

*

Stiles had been overjoyed when Scott and Derek started dating.

The two of them fit so well together. Derek was calmer, more comfortable with himself, around Scott, and Scott was so loyal and protective in a gentle, reassuring way that Derek needed. They supported each other, balanced each other out, and Stiles wasn’t exactly surprised when he first noticed Derek’s gaze lingering on Scott, and vice versa. 

So when they finally got together, Stiles had been pleased, because two of his closest friends got to be happy. With the lives they lead, with everything that had happened since Scott was bitten and turned into a werewolf...having something like that, something like Derek and Scott had, it was _good_.

So, naturally, Stiles was nothing but happy for the two of them. Even if he had been in love with Scott for longer than he could even remember. Even if he was falling, harder and harder every single day, for Derek. 

His best friend had that smile back, the one Stiles hadn’t realized he’d missed until he saw it again, the bright, uninhibited sunshine grin. Derek looked so much more at ease, he finally seemed happy to be in Beacon Hills, like he actually, finally, had something _good_ in his life, something...something worth living for. 

So, no, there was no pang in Stiles’ gut, no jealousy or hurt or broken heart, when he first saw the two of them share a soft, lingering kiss.

Instead, there was just happiness. 

*

“These movies are terrible.”

Stiles lifted his middle finger in response, not deigning to even glance at Derek. On the screen, another teen was brutally killed with a pickaxe in a particularly gory display of blood, exploding eyeballs, and shrill screams.

“Gnarly,” Scott and Stiles said together and the latter grinned, shoving a mouthful of popcorn into his mouth.

It was the first Friday in a while where Stiles could just relax, not stressed out with assignments or work, so when Scott and Derek had suggested watching a movie, he’d jumped at the chance to just unwind and hang out with his friends.

The three of them were nestled on the sofa, Stiles in the middle, with a blanket tossed over their laps and a bowl of burned popcorn (Stiles’ fault) on the couch, some of it spilled on the floor (Scott’s fault) and wedged down the back of the couch ( _Derek_ ’s fault, Scott and Stiles were both in firm agreement on that). 

On screen, the masked killer watched a young couple writhing in a tent, bloody pickaxe in hand, and then he threw it; Stiles and Scott watched, intent, as it ripped through the tent, sinking into the guy’s skull with a sickening sound, and Scott threw up a fist with a whoop. Derek snorted.

“It’s a B horror, Der,” Scott said, “It’s supposed to be bad.”

“Then why bother watching it, if it’s bad?”

Stiles glanced at Derek, incredulous, before sharing a look with Scott, shaking his head. He reached into the bowl, scrunching his nose up when his fingers only touched the gross unpopped kernels. There was a lull in the movie while the smart one in the group ranted about _not_ going to investigate the missing friend because _hello, do you WANT to die_ , so he stood, grabbing the bowl and heading into the kitchen.

He felt relaxed, happy. Between college and work, Stiles didn’t get as much time with his friends as he maybe would have liked. He definitely didn’t get to hang out with Scott as much as they used to. Their schedules conflicted a lot. So a whole evening of just chilling was nice. He leaned against the counter as he waited for the popcorn to cook, and then poured it into the bowl, breathing in the warm, buttery smell. 

Yawning, he padded into the living room – and froze.

Stiles’ gaze landed on Derek first. His head was tipped back, showing off his neck, muscles strained and eyes closed, lips parted in obvious pleasure. He gave a soft moan and Stiles ripped his gaze away, heat rushing through him, only to look at Scott, who was grinning, his hand moving rapidly under the blanket –

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Stiles burst out.

Derek’s head snapped up and Scott quickly yanked his hand away. He had the grace to blush, sheepish, but he was still grinning.

“Stiles -,” he started.

Stiles had to not be here. He had to be _anywhere but here_ , because god, he was a total creep and his cock was half hard in his sweatpants. He set the bowl on the table quickly and turned away, cheeks hot.

“I’ll, uh. Leave you to it.”

“Stiles...” Derek said.

Stiles gave an awkward little salute, regretted it instantly, and forced his feet to move. As soon as he was in the relative safety of his bedroom, he closed the door and leaned against it, dragging in a deep breath.

_Fuck_.

He had to be the worst friend ever. Because he wanted nothing more than to join them, to see if he could make Derek look like that, _moan_ like that, to suck Scott off while he touched Derek, and he was trying so hard to hide his interest, he _was_ , but it was so hard when the two of them were so _loud_ and not even slightly subtle when they had sex, and Stiles...Stiles was so _weak_.

His hard on was tenting his sweatpants and he curled his fingers slightly against the door. He had better willpower than this. He _did_. He wasn’t a horny sixteen anymore; he didn’t _have_ to jerk off, just because he was hard, practically aching with how turned on he was. He was stronger than that. He _was_.

(He lasted until he heard Derek and Scott leave the apartment, and then he gave in with a moan and shoved his hand down his boxers, wrapping it around his dick and stroking himself fast and desperate until he was spilling, hot and sticky, over his fingers.)

*

Moving in together seemed like a good idea at first.

Stiles and Scott went to the same college, so they’d always kind of planned to get a place together. Stiles had been unsure, though, when Scott and Derek got pretty serious pretty fast (not a surprise; they’d been in love with each other for years already), figuring Scott would move in with Derek. And he did, except the two of them asked Stiles to move in too.

The place was nice and between the three of them and their jobs, rent and bills weren’t too much of a stressful deal. It had been a good idea, because the three of them made good roommates, apart from the occasional argument over something ridiculous. The fridge was always full of groceries, the place was usually clean, and it was nice, living with people he liked and trusted.

It wasn’t until two weeks after they’d moved in that Stiles realized his mistake. Not just in moving in with them, but in setting his bed up against the shared wall, because the first night he heard them...he knew he was well and truly fucked.

*

_You have got to be kidding me_.

Neither of them even noticed him, too busy...well. _Being busy_. Stiles took in the sight of Derek bent over the kitchen table, was kind of hypnotized by the snap of Scott’s hips before he shook himself out of it, clearing his throat and letting the door swing shut behind him.

Loudly.

“Seriously, guys? I _eat_ there.”

There was a pause, then Derek said, quietly, “So does Scott.”

It took Scott’s loud huff of laughter for Stiles to get what Derek actually meant and he dropped his keys, mouth falling open slightly. Derek had a shit eating grin on his face, looking smug despite still being bent almost double with Scott’s hand on his neck, and Stiles finally tore his gaze away, fumbling to pick his keys up.

“I think I preferred it when you were a near silent asshole,” he muttered. He shoved his keys in his pocket, straightened, and refused to so much as glance their way and torture himself further as he tried to pick his way across the room. “I’ll be in my room. Just...like, _sanitize_ the table after, yeah?”

“You could always join us.”

Stiles was muttering about cornflakes and not wanting suspicious stains when Scott’s words registered and he just stopped dead, spine straightening. He didn’t dare glance back, his heart slamming against his ribs.

Was Scott...was Scott actually _propositioning_ him? Into a threesome? Fucking Christ on a _cracker_ , he was nostalgic for the days when Scott freaking blushed at the word _nipple_. 

Stiles took a deep breath, unsure how to respond, if Scott was kidding or not. What did one say when their best friend suggested a threeway?

“I, uh...” he licked his lips. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Scott’s voice was lower, deeper, and it sent a tremble through Stiles.

Slowly, he turned. Scott and Derek had separated, the latter leaning back casually against the table, like this was just an everyday occurrence. Scott just gazed at Stiles, looking nervous, but his dark eyes were hopeful.

“I...don’t think that’s a good idea,” Stiles finally managed. Because maybe it sucked, being in unrequited love with his best friends, but having a taste of being with them only for it to be just that, a taste? That would be a whole lot worse.

“Then join us for dinner,” Derek suggested, earnest. “Lots of dinners. And we can work up to sex. Or not, I mean, sex doesn’t...it’s not...”

“You want to date me,” Stiles said slowly, and Derek nodded. “But...”

“We’re werewolves, buddy. We can smell you. Smell that you’re interested.” Scott scratched the back of his neck. He looked adorably awkward, which was actually pretty endearing considering his cock was still hard and very much _there_ , tempting Stiles. “We thought...if we weren’t exactly subtle, I mean, you always smelled so turned on, we figured you might make a move, but...”

Stiles had a brief moment of horror at the realization that they’d been able to smell his arousal when they were having sex, but it was quickly swamped when it hit him that they actually wanted to _date_ him. 

“I...it’s more than interest,” Stiles insisted, “I...yeah.”

Scott’s lips pulled up into a bright, goofy smile. “Yeah, dude. Me too.”

When Stiles’ gaze flickered to him, a small, amused smile flickered to life on Derek’s face and he said, gruffly, “Yeah.”

“Good. Glad we got that out in the open. Now, no more talking.” Stiles yanked at his shirt, struggling with the buttons before he tried to just rip it off over his head, almost tripping as he attempted to cross the room.

It wasn’t his most graceful move, but Derek just huffed out a laugh, helping to untangle him, and Scott’s hands went to Stiles’ belt. Their lips collided into a slow, deep kiss as Derek watched, and Stiles closed his eyes, smiling against Scott’s mouth.

Maybe moving in together wasn’t such a bad idea.

**Author's Note:**

> allirica.tumblr.com - come say hi? :)


End file.
